


Sherlollipops - Summoned

by MizJoely



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson and Greg Lestrade have been summoned to Sherlock's flat. The only question is, why? Bill Wiggins seems to know!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Summoned

“Ey, Mr. ‘olmes, ‘ow’s the missus?” 

Billy Wiggins’ cheerful greeting was met with a grunt as Sherlock shuffled from the bedroom to the kitchen in search of tea. The consulting detective was clad only in a trailing sheet despite the three people currently occupying his sitting room.

“Who’s the missus?” John asked from his perch on the sofa arm, where he’d already made himself a nice strong cuppa after receiving Lestrade’s text that he was needed at Baker Street. For what, John still had no idea...nor did Lestrade for that matter, since his response to John’s question had been a shrug and a significant look at Sleeping Beauty’s closed bedroom door. Apparently Lestrade had been summoned with no explanation forthcoming either, only instructions to tell John to come, too.

Wiggins grinned and nabbed a biscuit from the plate set on the coffee table. Taking a huge bite, he grinned again and said, “You know, from the morgue. The cute one with the mean right hook. And left hook, for that matter.” He winked and finished the biscuit, quickly grabbing another.

Ah, Molly, then. John and Lestrade exchanged glances before John turned his attention back to Sherlock’s...protégé? Detective-in-training? Charity case? Something. At least the kid had got off the drugs once Sherlock took him under his wing. “You do know she’s not actually his missus, right?” John asked.

Wiggins raised an eyebrow, glanced over at Sherlock - who was busy stirring sugar into his mug - then looked back at John and Lestrade. “Really? You mean, you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” Lestrade asked impatiently. “I mean, there’s loads of crap I don’t know right now...”

“Not just right now!” Sherlock’s voice floated in from the kitchen in a slightly mocking sing-song.

Lestrade ignored him and ploughed ahead. “Mainly I don’t know what the bloody hell I’m doing here. What the bloody hell AM I doing here?” he asked, raising his voice and directing his irritated gaze at Sherlock - or more properly, the back of Sherlock’s head as he made his way back to his bedroom. “Oi, Sherlock! Where the hell are you going?”

“Back to bed, obviously,” the other man snapped. “I told you this was a bad idea,” he grumbled as he pushed the door open, careful not to spill the tea as he did so.

“Told who it was a bad idea?” Lestrade was at the end of his patience, and John wasn’t far off. But as he stood up, getting ready to follow his former flat-mate and demand some answers, Sherlock came stumbling back out of the bedroom, sans tea, hands held up defensively. John and Lestrade immediately went on the alert, both reaching automatically for weapons they currently didn’t have in their possession. Wiggins simply continued munching on the biscuits and grinning.

The reason for his calm quickly became apparent as a dressing-gown came flying through the air and smacked Sherlock in the face. “Put that on right now, you ass!” 

John gaped, Lestrade sputtered, and Wiggins chuckled as the owner of the voice came marching out of the bedroom, glaring. “Sherlock Holmes,” Molly scolded as she tightened the belt of one of his other dressing-gowns around her waist, “what possessed you to tell everyone to come over this morning?”

“Well you said it was time we told them,” Sherlock began, but the irate pathologist just ran right over him. Verbally, of course, much to both John and Lestrade’s rising amusement. He also hurriedly donned the dressing-gown she’d tossed at him and allowed the sheet to drop to the floor.

“I didn’t mean tell them to show up at your flat the morning after!” she practically shouted, stamping one foot. After giving him a glare that should have singed his eyebrows right off his forehead, she plastered on a smile and turned to face the others. “Um, morning John, Greg, Billy. Sorry to be so...” She gestured at herself, then turned and glared at Sherlock again. “But SOMEONE didn’t tell me we were expecting company until they woke me up just now!”

“I brought you tea,” Sherlock said defensively. “Just the way you like it. And look, I made sure there were biscuits…” Wiggins looked guiltily at the two confections he was reaching for, let one of them go and backed away from the plate while Sherlock scowled at him.

John and Lestrade ignored the byplay in favor of getting some answers, talking over one another in their eagerness. “How long has this been going on?” “So you two are...” 

“Married,” Sherlock announced, holding up his left hand waggling his ring finger. With the other he pulled Molly closer and proceeded to kiss her with a passion that had definitely been missing when John had seen him kiss his fake fiancée once upon a memorable time. In the midst of the rather thorough snog, he also lifted Molly’s left hand in order to bring the wedding set she was wearing to their attention. In case there was any doubt as to who was married to whom.

“I’m still mad at you,” Molly grumbled when the kiss ended. She gave their visitors an apologetic glance. “Sorry, but maybe we can do this another time?”

“Yes, feel free to tell everyone, thanks for coming by, do show yourselves out, you know the way, bye!” With that Sherlock swept a now-giggling Molly into his arms and carried her back to the bedroom.

John and Lestrade were speechless again, leaving Wiggins to get in the last word.

“Told you she was his missus,” he said smugly.


End file.
